Surviving Cancer - Writing what I know - Part I
In keeping with my theme for this month I'm blogging about breast cancer and my own story.
February of 2002 I was working in Toronto for extended periods of time and had a pain in my breast. I could feel something that felt about the size of a vitamin. At least that's how I remember the way it felt. Home for a period I had a mammogram and the doctor said I should have a biopsy. Before I could deal with that I had other health issues. Swelling in my legs sent me to my family doctor, who after rounds of blood work and urinalysis sent me to a kidney specialist. Diagnosed with minimal change disease, a disease of the kidneys, I was put on major doses of steroids for months. I did visit a plastic surgeon to discuss a biopsy but he wanted to perform a surgical biopsy and I felt a needle biopsy would have been the appropriate place to start. So I ignored the lump trying to deal with the kidney disease. I experienced a benign tumor in the same breast years before - so why should I worry when it was probably the same thing?
Finally in early September, I went back to have another mammogram. The radiologist performed an ultra sound, in addition to the mammography. I will never forget how she gasped while doing my procedure. Minutes later, when I was dressed and in her office, she blurted out that I had cancer. I was stunned and left there in a daze. Minutes ticked by as I sat in my car and cried. How could this be?
On the drive home I called my best friend who reminded me that only a biopsy would tell for sure. Reassured I made an appointment with a breast cancer surgeon. I spent the night before my visit with her researching breast cancer and made long lists of questions. Having experienced thyroid disease and kidney disease in my lifetime I planned to go into this prepared. I was not a person to simply take instructions without question.
On September 20th, I had a the lump removed from my left breast. Hours after the procedure I attended a party. In good spirits because I convinced myself my tumor wasn't cancerous. Two days later the call from my surgeon changed my life. Weeks after I underwent a second surgery to perform a Sentinel Lymph Node biopsy and to get a "clean margin" to make sure all of the cancerous tumor was removed. Four weeks after that I started chemotherapy. At the time I was single, living in Arizona with all of my family back east.
I cut my hair short as soon as my doctor told me at what week of chemo it would start to fall out. I bought two wigs, close in color to my hair but in different styles. The day I realized my hand was full of hair as I absent mindedly ran my fingers through it, was the day I went back to the wig shop and asked the owner to shave my head. I didn't take my girlfriends - at the time it was too personal to share it with anyone.
I was traumatized. Not because I lost my hair but because I was sick. Technically, not sick from the cancer, which had already been removed but fighting for my life nonetheless. The point in chemo was to make sure there were no cancer cells making their way through my body to latch onto to another organ - my lungs, my bones, my brain. Chemo made me feel sicker. I looked like a sick person when I saw myself sans wig and makeup. I didn't want to look sick. I wanted to feel healthy again - to feel in control of my life and my future.
Six chemotherapy treatments killed everything in my body. It wasn't just the lack of hair, it was the difficulty my body had of recuperating from each "cocktail". My doctor threatened blood transfusions but I fought that mind and body. I wanted my body to recover without help. That didn't work. I never needed a transfusion, but I did have weekly injections to help regenerate my blood cells. I'm not sure which was worse - having my cancer or battling it.
I would never say that cancer changed my life for the better because it didn't. Cancer sucks, to put it bluntly. But I did learn things about myself I never knew. I am a survivor. I am stronger than I ever realized. I have learned to share my fears and my pain with those who love me, instead of trying to protect them.
I learned that there are many difficult things you will have to battle in your life. Fighting for your life puts everything else in perspective. It is my prayer that you don't have to experience this firsthand. That your loved ones won't be in this position. But if cancer does force it's way into your life, I hope my story may help you find hope.
Happy trails,
Leslie
February of 2002 I was working in Toronto for extended periods of time and had a pain in my breast. I could feel something that felt about the size of a vitamin. At least that's how I remember the way it felt. Home for a period I had a mammogram and the doctor said I should have a biopsy. Before I could deal with that I had other health issues. Swelling in my legs sent me to my family doctor, who after rounds of blood work and urinalysis sent me to a kidney specialist. Diagnosed with minimal change disease, a disease of the kidneys, I was put on major doses of steroids for months. I did visit a plastic surgeon to discuss a biopsy but he wanted to perform a surgical biopsy and I felt a needle biopsy would have been the appropriate place to start. So I ignored the lump trying to deal with the kidney disease. I experienced a benign tumor in the same breast years before - so why should I worry when it was probably the same thing?
Finally in early September, I went back to have another mammogram. The radiologist performed an ultra sound, in addition to the mammography. I will never forget how she gasped while doing my procedure. Minutes later, when I was dressed and in her office, she blurted out that I had cancer. I was stunned and left there in a daze. Minutes ticked by as I sat in my car and cried. How could this be?
On the drive home I called my best friend who reminded me that only a biopsy would tell for sure. Reassured I made an appointment with a breast cancer surgeon. I spent the night before my visit with her researching breast cancer and made long lists of questions. Having experienced thyroid disease and kidney disease in my lifetime I planned to go into this prepared. I was not a person to simply take instructions without question.
On September 20th, I had a the lump removed from my left breast. Hours after the procedure I attended a party. In good spirits because I convinced myself my tumor wasn't cancerous. Two days later the call from my surgeon changed my life. Weeks after I underwent a second surgery to perform a Sentinel Lymph Node biopsy and to get a "clean margin" to make sure all of the cancerous tumor was removed. Four weeks after that I started chemotherapy. At the time I was single, living in Arizona with all of my family back east.
I cut my hair short as soon as my doctor told me at what week of chemo it would start to fall out. I bought two wigs, close in color to my hair but in different styles. The day I realized my hand was full of hair as I absent mindedly ran my fingers through it, was the day I went back to the wig shop and asked the owner to shave my head. I didn't take my girlfriends - at the time it was too personal to share it with anyone.
I was traumatized. Not because I lost my hair but because I was sick. Technically, not sick from the cancer, which had already been removed but fighting for my life nonetheless. The point in chemo was to make sure there were no cancer cells making their way through my body to latch onto to another organ - my lungs, my bones, my brain. Chemo made me feel sicker. I looked like a sick person when I saw myself sans wig and makeup. I didn't want to look sick. I wanted to feel healthy again - to feel in control of my life and my future.
Six chemotherapy treatments killed everything in my body. It wasn't just the lack of hair, it was the difficulty my body had of recuperating from each "cocktail". My doctor threatened blood transfusions but I fought that mind and body. I wanted my body to recover without help. That didn't work. I never needed a transfusion, but I did have weekly injections to help regenerate my blood cells. I'm not sure which was worse - having my cancer or battling it.
I would never say that cancer changed my life for the better because it didn't. Cancer sucks, to put it bluntly. But I did learn things about myself I never knew. I am a survivor. I am stronger than I ever realized. I have learned to share my fears and my pain with those who love me, instead of trying to protect them.
I learned that there are many difficult things you will have to battle in your life. Fighting for your life puts everything else in perspective. It is my prayer that you don't have to experience this firsthand. That your loved ones won't be in this position. But if cancer does force it's way into your life, I hope my story may help you find hope.
Happy trails,
Leslie
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